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For me, that was kickboxing. Andthatwas taught by Sensei’s son, Sensei Junior. Who was currently standing at the reception desk, frowning at the new computer his father had reluctantly installed a few months before, his dark brown hair sticking up everywhere, like always.
“It’s still giving you trouble, huh?” I asked, sauntering up like I was wearing a skirt and lipstick instead of the sweatpants and t-shirt I’d pulled on earlier when Daniel arrived.
“Fucking piece of shit,” Sensei Junior muttered, glancing up to make sure his dad was still teaching and out of earshot. “I’m tempted to just dump it in the trash.”
I grinned. “Let me see. What are you trying to do?”
Sensei Junior let me around the desk and, within a few minutes, I fixed the enrollment error his thick fingers had caused. “There.”
“Thanks,” he said, eyeing me from head to toe. “What’s your damage? You look like hell.”
Sensei Junior was tall, thick, and muscled. He was like his father in every way except for the light streaks in his hair—which he either got from bleach or from his white mother—and also his priorities. He loved the martial arts, but he liked to kick ass. He’d opened a side business of the dojo a few years back to teach kickboxing to the less peace-inclined students.
“Just having a fucking horrible year,” I said with a cute smile. I always flirted with Sensei Junior, even though he was straight as a ruler. Mainly because, while I had no doubt he wouldneverfuck me, he seemed to like the attention. It softened him up, and that made it more likely he’d do what I asked. Of course I’d crushed horribly on him back in high school. Thought I was in love. Declared him my one and only. The usual for me.
My declaration ofune année horriblehad him frowning with concern. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Personal and private shit,” I said with another glimmer of cuteness.
Sensei Junior rolled his eyes. “Forget I asked.” But then his gaze sharpened on me. “You’re all right, though? You’re not in trouble?”
I could tell he was ready to crack his knuckles and offer to help kick someone’s ass, and I wanted to take him up on it. But there was no way he could kick the ass of a virus.
“I just need to get some tension out.” I inclined my head toward his side of the dojo where a fully outfitted kickboxing studio was set up. “You’d be the perfect target.” I twinkled at him again. “If you’re game.”
“Ha.” He glanced at the computer, squinting at the screen. “This says I’ve got nothing scheduled, right?”
He tapped the green blinking calendar. “Fuck this. It makes no sense.”
I glanced over the schedule. “I don’t see anything.” I elbowed him with a laugh. “Just someone named Colleen Sinclair at ten o’clock tonight. Kind of late for a private class, isn’t it?”
Junior blushed. “Yeah. That’s a girl I’m seeing. A total babe. Might marry her.”
He walked to the main door and locked it. “Come on. We’ve got forty minutes before Dad will be done with the munchkins and their parents start to show up. Plenty of time to mop the floor with your butt.”
We started with hard punches against the bag, kicks that sent it flying, and later a couple of hand-to-hand matches that were rough enough to get my blood pumping—and to sting my already existing bruises, as well as add a few more. Especially when he landed a kick that sent me flying across the mat. It felt good. Almost great.
But it was all just a little too safe.
Junior never really went after me. Not like he wasactuallygoing to mug me, or kill me, or rape me. It was all just pretend, just practice.
Still, when the alarm on his watch went off indicating it was time for us to stop fucking around and for him to get back to his job, I was feeling better. I was also satisfyingly sore in a deep, muscular way that only a scene with Luke or an encounter with Kyle achieved.
Blood pumped through my body, I was sweaty and breathing hard, and I felt alive. Very much alive.
How was it possible that inside me, swimming in my blood, there was a disease that was going to take me down?
“Minty,” Sensei Kato called out as he walked away from a young mom who was cooing over her daughter’s latest martial accomplishments. “It’s been a long time.”
He struck me on the shoulder like the straight man he was and then pulled me into a hug. I let him hold me, feeling small in his arms.
Sensei had never held back in affection for me, not even when I verified that I was as gay as a nest of birds. He’d simply said, “Yeah, we don’t really give a shit in this dojo about things like that. If anyone here gives you trouble, let me know. I’ll handle it.”
Today, he thumped my back one last time before releasing me. I wondered if there was something about me that attracted protective types: Daniel, Barry, Sensei…
But not Luke. I couldn’t honestly call him “protective,” could I? Not when he purposely caused me pain and pushed me to the edges of what I could handle.
I liked that.
